Archives: Wild West’n

Glass House

When Weston was young, his room had glass doors. He was so young that we didn’t think he would mind the lack of privacy. As he got older, he started to mind a little more. We later updated his room and got some new furniture. The only problem was that now his dresser was right by the window. We also never got around to getting new blinds for his window. So, he had glass doors, and the easiest place to change was right next to a window with no blinds. (I realize how bad this all looks now.)

Around this same time, Weston would often dream about being in the NBA. We were talking about how much fun it would be. I told him that Damian Lillard’s mom lived with him not too far from where we lived. I told him that his getting into the NBA was my retirement plan, and that Claire and I would come live with him when we were old. Weston got a mischievous grin on his face and described our room as having all glass walls and NO BLINDS. I told him that was fine. At that age, I think he’ll care more than I will.

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The Opposite

We were playing a game of “Would You Rather,” and Weston came up with a real dilemma:

Would you rather be able to understand every language and not be able to speak them—or the opposite?

I think I would rather speak other languages and not know what I’m saying, but that’s me.

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Happy Birthday

Weston: “What can I get you for your birthday?”

Claire: “Win the first game of the tournament, and that will be my present.”

Weston: “OK, and I’ll lose the second so you don’t have to stay for another game.”

(They won all three anyway.)

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Where are your pants?

Weston wears shorts all year, and has never experienced weather cold enough to merit pants in his mind. This was painful to watch on our recent trip to London. Some days were much too cold for shorts — at least for any of the other 8.5 million people in London — but Weston didn’t care.

We walked by a stand that sold FC Barcelona hats. I told Weston I would buy him a hat if he agreed to wear pants the next day. We then went into our regular back-and-forth about why, at times, he should wear pants. The man selling us the hat had a bemused look on his face, and I realized that “pants” in England means “underwear.” I was trying to bribe my son to wear underwear, which is only slightly less bizarre than trying to bribe him to wear “trousers.”

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Wavey Wavey

We were talking about our plans for the day. Harper said she was excited for one particular activity, which was not yet a fixed part of the plan. Harper often does this as a way to ensure that decisions are made in her favor. Weston attempted to manage her expectations and said that the activity — I don’t remember what it was, or I would be able to use fewer pronouns to talk about it — was “wavey-wavey”. I asked Weston what he meant, and he said, “You know, wavey wavey,” rocking (or waving) his hand back and forth, the common gesture to imply uncertainty. Just in case it turns into a common phrase, I want to be sure Weston gets credit.

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Bizarre Pinewood Derby Car

weston-boxing-deranged

It was 7pm (2-3 hours to my bedtime), and the cars needed to be completed and weighed the next day. I was going to be busy at work the day of the deadline, so there was no way to further procrastinate. I had three hours.

A few weeks earlier, Weston and I had watched Rocky IV in a hotel during a mini family vacation. Weston’s description of what he wanted was basically a supine Rocky figurine with wheels. I decided that etching Weston’s photo, posing as his favorite pugilist, would be a quick and easy solution. Although he was constantly bouncing around the house as though he was in a championship fight for the title, I don’t think he practiced any of his faces in front of a mirror. He either looked too happy, too sad (like he was losing and wanted to cry), or just completely deranged. We took about 30 photos before getting one I thought would work…then decided to use a deranged photo instead — just because it was funnier.

After etching his photo onto the car, I realized the deranged photo didn’t show his arms. Thinking Weston would be disappointed with a boxing car that doesn’t have arms with which to box, we looked through all of the toys to find some arms that might work. We nailed some arms to the block, so we could still rotate them as though Weston was swinging. In a very strange way, the arms matched Weston’s expression and his face didn’t seem any more deranged than the expressions Rocky makes during the big fights.
eye-of-the-tiger

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The Birds

the-birds Weston drew some pretty rad birds.

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Transformers

weston-running
The boys and I started watching the original Transformers cartoon before bed recently. Weston and Conrad are transfixed. Weston takes notes, recording all of their names and attributes, though I don’t recognize any of the names he’s written down so far. He has been singing his own interpretation of the theme song, “Transformers: more-da-me-see-eye!” Claire heard it and added, “Robots in da sky!” I tried to correct Weston, but he gave me a skeptical look — then continued as if my suggestion made no sense at all.

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Essay Contest

Weston’s class was asked to write an essay about a school rule they would like to change. This was Weston’s submission…

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Sensei Weston


Weston has started his own karate class. Conrad and Shauna are his pupils and he shows them no mercy.

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